The Game of Treason
by Dark.Silver.Flower
Summary: Two citizens of Dellhaven are bond in a deadly game of love, lies, and betrayal. Elsie falls for a notorious bandit and must put all she has been taught aside in order to save the kingdom. Kyte leaves a life of redundancy for a dark lover with a dark past
1. Elsie: There is No Honor Among Thieves

_Elsie_

_**There is no honor among thieves.**_

A final silver drop of moonlight graced the horizon before the inevitable passage of dawn. The cracked stone walls of the castle slowly revealed their opaque silver buff as the morning sun polished the horizon. In the distance, the white sun slowly made its way from the Badlands of the North East, over the distant farm villages, and finally to the royal city of Dellhaven. Her shift was over. She could finally go home and get some sleep.

With a quick bow of departure to the head guardsman of her shift, Elsie began her decent down from the North West tower of the castle and walked through the still-deserted courtyard. Her lady was sleeping and did not wish to be guarded so closely in the nighttime hours, so Elsie aided the night watch on many nights. She really wasn't much of a sleeper, herself and the story telling of her fellow guardsmen kept her quite entertained throughout the night. They appreciated the help; night was the time when most pillagers and spies made their rounds to the castle. The Castle Guard was the one thing that kept the Queen, Amara, and her daughter, Sabine, safe at night.

_The Queen will need me by noon, though. _She thought. _Her Highness does not take visitors before then, so there is little need for her personal guard at that time._

Elsie had been the Queen's personal guard since the day she turned seventeen. She was tall, lean, and strong, with perpetually sun burnt skin and long, wild hair of a natural scarlet hue. She wore thick black eyeliner around her cyan eyes that gave her the appearance of a shark; a beautiful, Amazonian maiden with the eyes of a predator and the dignity of a warrior.

She walked into the barracks and to the third floor. She shared the fourth room on the right with a young swordsman named Karen who worked from dawn until mid afternoon. In other words, Elsie rarely ever saw her. In fact, Elsie best knew Karen through her possessions that were scattered throughout the room. Several books on swordsmanship, some pamphlets on unique teas blends, and a few sketches of her family back home she had drawn since coming to Dellhaven. The one window in the room had its shudders closed and Elsie pushed it open, letting in the grey light of the fall morning. She placed her silver colored longbow in the corner of the room along with her quiver.  
><em>This place is a mess. Thank God they do not inspect our barracks like they do for the soldiers…<em>

Elsie's side of the room composed of a large box of clothes and a coffee table with piles of books on it. There were more books on her bed. She pushed the books to the floor and collapsed on the twin sized bed which was pathetically small in comparison to her height. She curled into a ball and was soon fast asleep.

…

She awoke at ten thirty and pulled off her uniform she had slept in. She threw it on top of the pile of books and dug around in the box of clothes for a clean uniform. She finally found her second pair of black trousers and silver short sleeved shirt and placed them on her bed. Elsie walked down the hall in her underwear and bra (for it was an all-female floor) and entered the shower area past rooms 6A and 6B. She showered in scorching hot water and wrapped herself in one of the towels that were supplied there. She marched down the hall back towards her room. People were beginning to awaken as they prepared for their afternoon shifts as well.

She entered the room, pulled on fresh underthings as well as her uniform. Then, she picked up her black and silver chest-plate-and-shoulder-guards as well as her bow and quiver. Elsie tosseled her red hair on the way out the door and locked the room on her way out. She was immediately greeted by a familiar face.

"Mornin'…" stated an equally tall girl with black hair and bushy bangs. Her eyeliner easily rivaled Elsie's. "Headin' to work already… hehe?"

"Yeah, Amelia," Elsie replied. "Just got off?"

"Sure did. No pipsqueak thieves or mighty armies get past _this_ archer," She gloated, pointer to herself with her thumb. Her signature sly smile found its way onto her young, but hoary face. She waved with the back of her hand as she headed back to room 5B, her short bow glistening in her right hand.

_I love that Amelia, she's so damn mysterious…_

Elsie left the building. The snow white sun was now far overhead, but she still had some time before her shift began. She lifted her chest plate over her head and settled it on her shoulders. It gave her a polished, powerful look that was still elegant and beautiful. The edge of the city she had to walk through was the less pleasant part of town. The dubious shops that crowded the streets were said to house every sort of reprobate from murderers to robbers to smugglers. Elsie walked towards the castle on that rather warm morning and was immediately stopped by the sight of something typical, but still caught her eye every time she saw it.

Well, it was not an "it", persay. _His_ name was Eden Miller and he was not among the individuals a member of the Elite Guard should be associated with. He was tall and distinctly handsome with bright green eyes and blonde hair that covered much of his face. He was lean and quick, which was one of the reasons he was so gifted at his supposed occupation. They said he was a member of the theive's gang that roamed the city, but there had been no definitive proof of this, so he continued to journey the streets, free. He had a bandage over the eye on the side of his face that his hair covered. Eden was speaking to a shady man outside a druggist's shop. He pulled his black coat closer to his body as he saw Elsie pass and as she paused, she could have sworn he winked at her.

_The nerve. How _dare _he look at me in such a manner? Why, he is a suspected criminal. He cannot charm his way into smuggling and stealing, or out of the law's justice, for that matter. I have never held such personal disdain for a human being in all my life._

But she couldn't help but blush. He was, after all, quite amazing at look at.

…

Little did she know that treason, revenge, and ultimately fate would bring these opposing individuals to a common cause. One of honor and survival; one no one would have ever suspected._ The city will fall and chaos will rule the land, for the age of harmony was at an end._


	2. Kyte: Love is a Game of Thornes

Kyte

_**Love **__**is **__**a **__**game **__**of **__**thorns.**_

Don't get me wrong, Kyte Day was not the most interesting young man in all the land. Similarly, he was not among the dullest. People of Dellhaven often whispered amongst themselves at his mere presence. He was said to be highly and, as many claimed, dangerously intelligent. However, this fact was not what contributed most to his infamy. It was the fact he wasted his life and his sheer talent in becoming a coachman. Yes, a _coachman._

However, Kyte viewed this fact about himself in a completely different light than the rest of the city folk. Being a coachman brought some stability and reliability into his life that he had never known before. He had been a child prodigy, but people lost interest in his education upon the death of his grandfather, an upper-nobility aristocrat, who raised him. Years of being the one child in the city who did not attend a formal private or public school or even had regular contact with other children caused him to grown up distraught and alone. Not much had changed socially since he had turned 17 or 18 or even that very year at 19 years of age.

The day his life change, he had been given a task to drive a certain member of the aristocracy, Mrs. Bunton and her son, Isaac, to a local ball held at the castle of Queen Amara. On the evening, just before the first rays of sunset lit the horizon, he set out on his horse drawn buggy for the most Eastern, and most affluent, part of town. The cool October evening whipped his black, shaggy hair from his forehead and gave him a feeling of comfort and readiness.

As he traveled east, the gravel roads gave way to cobble stone and soon Kyte found himself in front of an elaborate mansion that seemed to gleam even in the failing light. The esteemed woman who was descending the marble steps of said mansion was short and had a matronly, yet sophisticated look about her. She had the same air of erudition and kindness that reminded Kyte of his late grandfather that caused him to feel a slight pang in his heart as she drew near. She clambered into the coach with surprising grace and dignity given her late-middle age.

"Good evening," Kyte said as Mrs. Bunton assembled herself on the velvet cushioned seats of the stately buggy. "Is any other person to be coming along with you this evening?"

"My! You are a polite young man!" exclaimed the woman, giving Kyte a sincere smile. Seeming to remember herself she added, "My son Isaac will be joining us momentarily. Oh! Look, he comes now."

Approaching the coach strolled one of the most fabulous individuals Kyte had ever laid eyes on. Isaac Bunton was tall and slender individual with snowy yellow hair. If a color could be both gold and silver at the same moment, that color would best describe the glory of the young man's hair. He wore a matching pair of dark navy trousers and jacket that made his look as if he had come from both power and prestige. The gold fasteners on his jacket further accented this appearance.

"Hello, there," Isaac smirked as he entered the buggy alongside his mother. It was not the sort of arrogant smirk you would expect from a wealthy 20 year old man. Rather, it displayed a sense of playfulness most dignitaries lack. He seemed to take an immediate notice of Kyte.

"We should best be off; no one else besides the two of us is going to this ball from the estate."

"Of course, sir," replied Kyte in the usual, respectful manner that was typically expected of him.

"No need to call me 'sir'…" Isaac mumbled as he laid his head back upon the seat.

"As you wish."

The ride was anything but typical. The strange old woman seemed to make conversation out of every bit of information she processed from the color of the sky to the scenery, to the villages that the party traveled through. Kyte felt she was not being bluntly polite, rather she was social and took a legitimate interest of all people she came in extended contact with.

"Look at that sky! I have never seen such a deep and charming blue in all my years! What is your name, by the way...?"

"My name is Kyte Whiteson, ma'am."

"Kyte, the color of the sky is the same color of those lovely eyes of yours!" she exclaimed, rather honestly. "Don't you agree, Isaac?"

_This __woman __has __some __amazing __sight __if __she __can __see __the __coloring __of __my __eyes __in _this _lighting._

Isaac had had his eyes closed and his head still tilted against the back of his seat at this moment. Without moving (or opening his eyes for that matter) he simply replied, "He does have lovely eyes, Mother."

Kyte had never blushed so fiercely in his life. Had this boy just complemented his appearance? This strange, handsome boy?

_Why __do __I __feel __this __way? __My __heart __has __never __pounded __so __fast __in __my __life. __I __feel __as __if __I __wish __to __run __away, __yet __have __this __moment __with __me __forever. __What __a __foolish __way __to __feel __over __a __simple __and, __most __likely, __empty, __compliment! __At __least __this __darkening __twilight __prevents __him __from __seeing __me __blush!_

Soon enough, the party pulled before the grand, silver castle of Queen Amara of Dellhaven. The wealthy matron in the back wished Kyte a good night before slipping from the seat with as much refinement as she has entered it with. She took a few steps forward and was immediately drawn into conversation with a rather impressive looking old man with a long white beard and top hat.

Isaac had not moved.

_Is __he __asleep?_

"Sir… I mean…"

The man's eyes immediately shot open. Kyte registered the fact they were a grayish violet color. He was suppressed by what the man would do next.

He leaned in close to Kyte over the seat and practically whispered in his ear, "I have not formally introduced myself; my name is Issac Bunton. I have a strange feeling we will be meeting again, soon, Kyte Whiteson."

With that he left the coach and Kyte could have sworn that Isaac was wearing the same charming smirk he had on the moment he had first heard him speak.

As Kyte brought the buggy and horses down the street (for it would take far too long to drive all the way home and return before the end of the night) he could not keep the cluttering thoughts from suffocating his mind.

_Isaac.__Isaac.__Isaac._

_ Perhaps he was simply being polite, but there is something about the way he acts… he takes my breath from my lungs as he speaks to me. He fills me with terror and excitement. Who is this man? And what exactly does he have planned for us that will require us to 'meet again'?_


End file.
